


Blossoms After Dusk

by Abalisk



Series: Ethos [4]
Category: Bleach, Naruto
Genre: Bleach References, Gen, In which we take canon and give it a good hard shake, Inner Sakura is an OC, Other, The Naruto Universe as the Main Focus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abalisk/pseuds/Abalisk
Summary: In which the other personality in Haruno Sakura's mind isn't so secondary after all...A Hikagami Kaiza is Inner Sakura Fic!





	1. Chapter 1

It was difficult, at first, to assay where the _She_ began and the _I_ ended.

Two souls. Distinct in pattern yet seamless in execution, were woven into a tapestry of dual parts, the design flawlessly defined to a singular whole... Not a one to shadow the other.

Flowing together, like a primordial sea.

Balanced.

Contained.

At the time, there was no concept of _Us_. No separation between the _Me_ and the _Her_. No disparity of the individual—the sole self.

It simply _was_. And for a while that was enough… the world set in a passive gray of foggy images and warmth, time melding together into a series of formless affairs that held no meaning. Everything was simply a want and a need. Hunger. Thirst. Heat. Sleep… Rinse and repeat—the cycle seemingly without end, yet no need for change.

But like all things, the simplicity of that existence came to an end. Awareness flicked “on” like a light switch when a terrible weight pressed upon my chest—the air itself rife with a foul, _angry_ miasma that pricked against my senses like a thousand heated needles.

A roar, deep and bellowing tore through the air, feral in its rage. An unspoken curse in its timbre...

I answered in kind, and the world was suddenly awash in color once more.

* * *

 

Humans naturally distrust that which is different...

“Your hair’s weird...”

“Haha~ Forehead! Forehead! Look at her forehead!”

“Oh ew, what’s that gross mark on your face?”

She cried at their cruel words, pawing at her tear-stained eyes in a futile effort to stifle the flow and hide unsavory features. Her heart hurt, clenching like a vice within her chest, body wracked with sobs as she sank down to the earth, curling in on herself.

“Aw, look~ She’s even uglier when she cries,” the lead girl crowed, her expression twisting into a mean sneer as she stood over the crying child. She flicked aside a trailing lock of dark hair, the motion oozing with pompous self-importance, her lips curling into a smirk as her posse chortled. “It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends... Serves you right!”

Lips trembling, she whimpered a protest against her knees, a minor defiance, “I-I didn’t… I didn’t _ask_ to look like this, Ami.”

“Hah?” Ami drawled, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, lip curling in disapproval. Her cronies mimicked her actions. “Are you trying to argue with me, _Forehead Girl_?”

“My name is Sakura!” she shouted, cheeks flushed in embarrassment and anger.

“ _My name is Sakura~_ ” Ami mocked in a whiny voice, bringing her fists up to make a “crying” motion, her lips pulling into an exaggerated pout, “ _Wah~ I’m a little crybaby and I scare everyone away with my freaky two-face and huuuuge forehead~_ ”

Sakura sucked in her bottom lip as the three broke down into raucous laughter, her teary eyes peering down to the pebbles by her toes, the soles of her sandals crunching the rocks together. Self-consciously her hand rose to meet the left side of her face, fingers trailing over the smooth skin under her left eye.

Though she couldn’t see it now, she was all too aware of discoloration in this area.

The flesh a different tone from her own…  
A jagged, scar-like marking…  
A dim, red eye…

She _hated_ this. She hated being different… being mocked by everyone around her. She wished it would all just sto—

**Then do something.**

Sakura stilled, a cold sensation creeping up her spine and making the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. Pressure rested on her shoulders and squeezed at her sides, the feeling akin to an enveloping embrace.

Only no one was there…

“M-mama said… said you’re not r-real,” she whimpered, the voices of Ami and her gang fading into the background like things always did when _She_ spoke.

A hum was the only reply and although Sakura couldn’t see the source of the voice, she still got the distinct impression that a cheek was resting on her scalp.

It was… comforting.

 **Mother doesn’t know everything,** was the response after several moments of soothing silence. Sakura felt a shift, like _She_ was changing position, and took note of her vision blurring in conjunction with a light pressure over her eye sockets. She relaxed, shoulders slumping—relishing the moment as her lifelong companion’s hands obscured sight, her vision steadily going dark. **Are you going to let this continue? Or do you need my help?**

Lower lip quivering, Sakura brought her hands up and rested them where she thought the other’s were, desperation clawing so deeply in her throat that she couldn’t utter a word.

_Please…_

**“... as y** ou wish.”

A crimson eye snapped open, its inner glow more prominent than before. It leered between masking fingers, pupil adjusting to the light before focusing on the taunting face of Sakura’s bully. A sigh escaped, and she brought her hands away, not bothering to wipe at the tear marks staining her cheeks.

“Che, did she finally lose it?” one of Ami’s friends—the one with the massive head of curls— taunted, nose wrinkled as she watched the younger girl stagger to her feet. “Did you hear her talking to herself?”

The other friend didn’t look too sure, her eyebrows quirked as she scratched at her hedgehog-like mane. “I dunno Kasumi… I’m—That didn’t seem normal… Maybe we should get a teacher?”

“Don’t be stupid, Fuki!” Ami snarled, turning on her friend with a viciousness that made the other girl step back, raising her hands in self-defense to ward her off, “You rat us out and I’m gonna give you a pretty little haircut just like _last time_ , so keep your stupid thoughts to yourself!”

“Huh. A regular little tyrant aren’t you?” a dull voice droned, cutting into their conversation.

Ami whirled, hair flying wide as she pivoted to shout, “What was tha—”

Her mouth snapped shut with a painful click, nearly biting her own tongue as a single hand clamped firmly over her chin, fingers digging into her cheeks. A pair of mismatched eyes glowered into her own, the tear tracks around the swollen lids making the expression far more intense than it would have normally been on such a young face. Ami grunted in surprise, attempting to pull away with an infuriated strangled shriek of protest but was shocked when the girl didn’t budge.

“Ami!” her friends shouted in unison, puffing themselves up to look intimidating as they growled but drew no closer, apparently too uncertain about the current circumstances to truly help.

The tear-stained girl paid them no mind, her eyes only on the source of Sakura’s grief, boredly observing as Ami’s brown eyes morphed from fury to nervousness. “There’s truly nothing more hideous than a brat with a rotten personality,” she murmured, tightening her grip when Ami tried to struggle anew, “Careful... You’ll break your own jaw.”

She stilled at that, eyes now wide with fear as she finally noted the differences in the girl before her.

A smile broke out on Sakura’s face, only this one was devoid of any humor as she leered balefully, her single red eye giving off an ethereal glow.

“Greetings. You may call me _Kaiza_ and I would like to have a word...”


	2. Chapter 2

“Kaiza...Who are you really?” Sakura asked, hands fisted into a stranglehold around the fabric of her dress, standing stiff under scrutiny. The sweet grass underfoot tickled her toes as a breeze wafted through, bringing with it the heavenly scent of spring flowers.

Kaiza stared at the diminutive girl, expression blank as she lounged in the branches of a white-barked tree, the steady fall of blossoms coating her languid form like winter snow.

Overhead, the sky was a vibrant gradient of golds and violets, perpetually set in a deep twilight. The scant twinkle of stars could be made out of the darkest reaches, blanketing the darkness in a ocean of shimmering lights.

There was a timelessness to this place...

Sakura shivered, drawing her arms about herself.

She felt… small.

Kaiza shifted, the accumulation of petals falling around her as she slid out of the tree’s reaching branches, landing soundlessly on the grassy earth. Her expression, while not severe, held an intimidating quality to it that made the younger girl nervously take a step back. She was everything Sakura was not—the darkness to her light—even her clothing reflected the difference between them, dun and practical.

Biting her lip, Sakura looked down self-consciously at her own attire: bare feet and a bright green summer dress… She stuck out like a sore thumb—not even to mention her ridiculous hair!

She gave a startled jerk when a knee crunched down into the grass before her.

Hesitantly, Sakura glanced under her lashes, steadily raising her chin to eye the kneeling teen, taking in the subtle details of the flowers and butterflies stitched into her clothing as she slowly drug her eyes up to meet hers. It was unnerving gazing into her eyes, the difference between the two an alarming contrast: the right a warm russet, while the left shimmered with an unnatural crimson glow.

And a scar… in the same place as her birthmark.

Sakura brought her hand up to touch the blemish on her own face, not really understanding, yet knowing a connection lay there all the same.

She couldn’t help thinking that Kaiza was really pretty, despite the scar.

Unlike herself…

“Who am I?” Kaiza repeated, head tilting as she appeared to be considering both Sakura and the question with a familiarity that the girl found comforting. This was the physical form of the voice she’d heard all her life: The encouraging word in her struggles. The soothing murmur in the darkest hours of night.

She’d always been there—watching over her…

Her very own guardian spirit.

Another gust blew by, locks of blushing pink and earthy brown waving in the sweet breeze, the discarded petals of the tree passing between them and into the sky.

“What do you want me to be?”

* * *

 

When Yamanaka Ino, the most popular girl in class, claimed to have something nice for her, Sakura was equal parts both skeptical and hopeful.

On one hand she was ecstatic, this could very well be her chance to make an actual friend! A goal that she hadn’t been able to make ever since the beginning of the academy year because of the rampant bullying of Ami and her goons.

But on the other hand, what would the most confident, pretty, and well-liked girl in the class want with her?

Kaiza hadn’t been particularly helpful when it came to advice…

**When she betrays your trust I’ll be sure to deal with it personally.**

Her wording wasn’t lost on Sakura and she gulped nervously, not-at-all soothed by her counterpart’s lack of faith. She picked at her fringe, fidgeting in place as she waited, unable to keep from pacing as she grew impatient. She could practically feel the other resident of her body looming in the deepest recesses of her consciousness, already on high alert due to Sakura’s anxiety. Her senses felt sharper as a result, more clear than they’d ever been before—sight and smell enhanced far beyond what she was accustomed, to the point that it was almost overwhelming.

But she was too keyed up to worry about it, her stomach performing nauseous flip-flops as the time dragged on and still there was no sign of Ino.

Class had already been out for a while now… The other kids had already either gone home or gone to play with their friends in the field, she could hear their loud voices from here.

No one else was around.

Sakura refrained from making a sound despite the pressure of a whine building in her throat, her hand coming up to clench at the hem of her shirt. “She’s… she’s not coming… is she?” She asked, head bowed dejectedly.

Kaiza didn’t respond immediately, her presence reading as stern and disapproving. Sakura could almost imagine her expression, porcelain face arranged into a carefully neutral facade while her eyes burned in silent fury. She was like that a lot—serious with a layer of cold anger—like she had something unpleasant on her mind that she couldn’t quite escape from… Sakura doubted she smiled much.

Not that she blamed her… These days it seemed there really wasn’t much to smile about.

**We can linger a bit longer if you’d like,** Kaiza finally murmured, breaking from her statuesque silence and bestowing the mental picture of a white tree surrounded by a field of flowers—an attempt on her part to calm her fragile nerves, **There’s no need for haste...**

Tears filled her eyes anyway and Sakura tried to blink them away, biting her lip in frustration. It happened again—she’d gotten herself actually _hopeful_ that this time would be different, that Ino would be kind, and she would make a _real_ friend. But instead she was standing here— _like an idiot_ —waiting for someone that would never come!

**Sakura.**

She ignored Kaiza, the blood pumping in her ears making it difficult to focus on anything else. It was hard to breath and she found herself clutching at her chest in pain, her vision wavering precariously close to black. She was done with this… She wanted to just… just—

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry—I’m late!” a shrill voice interrupted her train of thought, causing Sakura to flinch in shock.

Crashing and cursing sounded from the underbrush, and she only had a moment to wonder what the heck was happening before Ino burst out of the bushes, stray branches tangled in her hair and a wild expression on her face. Panting, she didn’t even take a moment to brush herself off before she looked around frantically, pausing when she spotted Sakura.

They blinked at one another for a moment... Sakura gave a shuddered hiccup.

Ino’s expression fell. “Oh no, I made you cry,” she said, skittering over with a look of pure guilt and fishing into her pockets to offer a clean—if a bit worn—handkerchief, “I’m horrible, I’m _so_ sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My dad wanted help cleaning the shop…”

Sakura gave a wet sniffle, gingerly taking the folded square in hand. “O-oh…” she mumbled, clearly a little embarrassed to be caught in such a state, “I… I’m sorry.”

The blonde girl gave her a confused look, reeling her head back with a raised brow. “What are you apologizing for? _I_ was the one that’s in the wrong here,” Ino griped, digging around in her pockets again for another cloth, “Here. Let me help you clean up a bit, you got a little dirt on your face.”

Stunned silence followed that statement, but Sakura didn’t pull away and allowed the other girl to dab at her face.

Kaiza hummed thoughtfully, the sound echoing into a soothing purr in their shared consciousness, apparently appeased by the gentle care. **She appears to be genuine,** was her response when Sakura sent a mess of questioning thoughts, **Children have little skill in concealing ulterior motives.**

_...What does that mean?_

**It means you can trust her,** she replied, though clearly she still held some reservations because she added after only a short delay, **For _now._**

_Oh._ Sakura bowed her head slightly, fiddling with her fingers. “Um…” she started, unsure and hunched in on herself when it was clear she had Ino’s full attention, the girl pausing in her ministrations, “I was wondering… W-why—Why are you here?”

Ino’s stare was one of surprise and so prolonged that Sakura wilted beneath it, concluding that she’d stepped over some invisible line. Clearly, the blonde was calculating something and Sakura braced herself for the inevitable fallout that was to come.

Much to her bewilderment however, the frown melted into a warm smile and Ino placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder before saying, “Because I want to be… and well—you really look like you could use a friend…” she trailed off, removing her hand to place them both on her hips, the epitome of confidence as she asked, “So, is it okay if I do your hair?”

Sakura couldn’t muster the words and merely nodded with so much enthusiasm she burst into fresh tears.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ino-chan…” Sakura croaked, blinking against the sunlight as she gazed at the flowers in her hands, the petals crinkling as she enclosed her fingers, “Do you think… Do you think I can be strong like you one day?”

Her friend beamed, blue eyes as bright as the clear sky. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Sakura-chan,” she said, eyelids creasing as her beauteous smile reached her eyes, “If you want to be strong then just go for it!”

“Thank you… You’re a good friend,” Sakura murmured shyly, opening her hands to allow the petals to spring back, full and vibrant.

Ino giggled, leaning over wrap the quiet girl in a tight hug. “What do you think friends are for?”

* * *

“Haruno Sakura!”

There was only a moment to prepare for what was to come, but despite this she didn’t allow herself to tense as the door to the headmaster’s office slammed open, rails screeching in protest. She sat perfectly relaxed, jaw resting on her knuckles as she lounged in the chair, stare unwavering as she listened to her mother stomp closer. _Just like we’d practiced._

Her eyes narrowed as the man refused to meet her gaze, instead standing to greet her mother with a bow.

“Haruno-san, I’m glad you could make it,” the headmaster welcomed, the faintest shift to his voice betraying his relief and exasperation, “I’m so sorry to pull you away from your work like this, but…”

“No. No, it’s—” A sigh. Mommy’s angry expression drooping into one of exhaustion before snapping back just as quickly, her dark green eyes pinning to Sakura’s singular baleful red. “It’s _not_ okay,” she stated firmly, turning so her body loomed over her daughter’s, “I’ve heard this is the sixth time this week you’ve been found instigating a fight, young lady. I don’t know exactly what is going on with you, but I’ll let you know right now I do _not_ approve.”

Sakura’s expression turned cold. “Instigating…?” she asked, eyes flicking over to the headmaster and adjusting her hand so her fingers could tap idly on her cheek, “Is that what they told you? Interesting word choice. And even the numbers they gave you were wrong… that’s _very_ interesting.”

Mommy appeared startled at this revelation, reeling back in surprise before opening her mouth, “Sakura—”

**You’re doing well… now repeat after me—**

“Eleven,” Sakura interjected with clinical precision, cutting her mother off mid speech and tapping her nails against the arm of the chair, “There were eleven incidents that I can be accused of being involved in this week.” An indignant gasp sounded from her parent, but Sakura ignored it, forging on with strict force. “All of which, I would like to point out, were in fact _instigated_ by the subjects I sent to the medical ward—who in turn, were in the process of harassing their underclassmen with physical violence outside of moderated taijutsu training protocols.”

She took a breath, fingers still tip-tapping aggressively into the wooden arm, her nails beginning to leave marks in the finish. “And yet, you make a point to single me out. _Claim_ that I am the source of these conflicts. And specifically appoint only six of the eleven reports that I know you have on your desk, while leaving the true culprits—decidedly—unpunished.” Sakura glared, her fingers ceasing their drumming dance as her eyes met the rather shocked expression of the headmaster.”

“Do I have that correct so far?”

**Very good.**

A strangled noise sounded from the man, his voice strained as he stuttered, “T-That’s…”

“And according to this sheet you made a point of showing me,” Sakura continued, languidly picking up the paper in question off her lap to give it a cursory glance, “All names listed that require reparations are those involved in the harassment of one _particular_ student.”

Mommy stiffened.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” Sakura drawled, peering over the paper’s edge to give the man what she hoped was a chiding look, “Your bias is obvious.”

“I will not be talked down to by a _child!_ ” he exploded, face turning a ruddy shade of puce as he slammed his hands on the desk, several papers fluttering to the floor, “Watch your tongue! Haruno-san _control your child!_ ”

**Tch... Of course.**

“Or what?” she challenged, unphased, “Detention? Suspension? Sabotage of rec—”

A hand on her arm cut Sakura off before she could end that sentence, her mother roughly pulling her out of seat with a muttered, “Excuse me” to the headmaster. Confused, Sakura didn’t struggle, stumbling along as she was pulled into the hallway, the office door slamming in their wake.

“Mommy, what—” she started, but was met with a stinging slap, the left side of her face blossoming in pain. Stunned, she cradled her cheek, head turned to the side.

**What.**

_She hit me..._

Unbidden, tears dripped to the floor.

“Don’t. You. Ever.” Mom hissed, still clenching her arm in a vice grip, and giving her a rough shake for good measure, “ _Ever_ speak to an adult like that again! What is _wrong_ with you? This is… Who taught you how to talk like that?”

_I was only doing something good… and she hit me…_

**Let go.**

“Let go,” she repeated aloud, numb.

“This. How are we going to salvage this?” her mother continued, clearly not listening, her shaking hand coming up to run through blonde hair, disheveling her normally professional appearance. Her eyes were wide. Darting. Breath coming in near panicked gasps as she tried to think. “It’s just… a misunderstanding. Yes. You’re stressed and you just need a little time away.”

**Shut up** _**/** Mommy hurt me..._

“Mother. Le **t go.** ”

“Sakura do you even understand the gravity of what you’ve done?” Mo-M̢o͈͙m̛̹͓͚͈͝ ̷̢͔̦̰͉̜̝̱̠̭m̧̞̼͠ ͏̼̭̻͉y̸̪͍̲̙͔͠ₘoₜₕₑr—Mebuki urged, shaking her again. Frantic. “There are consequences to your ac—”

_Stop it sto **pi̙͖t̠͖͎͈̝͢ ̢̭̙̳̰͎̟ḏ͕o̞̕n̗͍͉'҉̱̺͍̜̤̗t̙̘͟t̷̩̦̬̗̫͔ͅo͏̦u̝̬͈̙͈͠c̘̭͇̠h͙̫̜̜̳͍me̵̟̩̰̹ ̶̥̯̬i̦͍̳̰͇̹t̫̞ ̩̹̱̤hu̡͍rt͢s̗̤ ͔i͓̟̪̺͚͕t̘͙h͖̱͚͍͜u̴̼̱r̷͓t̶͉s͈̕ ̶̳̞̲͖ͅh̨̙͚̜̮U̼͖̠͘r͖̱TS͖̭̲̪̘̣̹**_ **̰Y͍̩̱̹͉͟ͅỌ͚͓̼̳̜U̘͇̱͎̖ ͟H̘Ṳ̵R̵̺͇̖̞͟͞T̘̳͓̞ ̸̛̟̖̬̗̲͟M͜͏̮͈͚̭E̫͇̟̱̪͠͞ͅ**

Sakura was crying, crying, cr y i n g . . .

“D **on’t touch me!** ” Kaiza snarled, ripping her arm away from Mebuki’s grasp, slapping the hand away with a force that echoed. The woman was shocked, familiar green eyes wide, wide, _wide..._ “Don’t pretend like yo **u even care! How long ago was it that your own _daughter_ was a victim of torment, huh?**” she shouted, fingers curling until they resembled claws, “ **Di** d you even notice? Was it just a coincidence that she came home every day with tear stains on her face? An accident perhaps when she returned with a haircut? **Explain, Mebuki!** ”

“Sakura!”

“ **Don’t _‘Sakura’_ me!** ” she roared, breath rattling in her throat. Her left eye twinged painfully and she slapped a hand over the socket, nails digging into flesh. Her jaw ached, bones shifting. She bared her teeth. “ **Sakura’s _not here!_ You hurt her! You! You did this! You sent her _away!_ She only wanted to help them and _you hurt her!_** ”

Everything felt hot. Her eyes blurred with tears, focus flickering in and out in heightened detail. Deep panting breaths rumbled in her chest as the pain in her skull spiked, forcing her to grasp at her temples as it grew to splitting proportions.

She tasted blood on her tongue.

Her flesh pricked with a thousand needles.

“I did the analysis,” Kaiza muttered, swaying on unsteady legs, the hall spinning on its axis, “The Hokage knows… You can’t— **I won’t let you…** They won’t bury this...”

She was _burning._

“Someone... Someone help!” she heard faintly through the feverish fog, “Is there a medic on site?! My daughter—My daughter, she’s—”

Kaiza didn’t hear what she had to say next, because the next thing she knew, a foreign energy stabbed through her skull and everything went to black.

**.**

**Ỉ̑̀ͤ̔҉'̶̶̢ͣͪ̉ͣ̓ͫͤ̈ͧṁ̐ ̴̌̎̏̋ͪͪ͋̉͛͘͡s̷̏ͯ͟o̒̽͢r̷̶͑̐ͧ̑̀͊̐̓͐͝rͥ̃̌ͭ͒y̒̀…**


	4. Chapter 4

When Yamanaka Inoichi first heard about Haruno Sakura, it’d been through the experiences of his only daughter, Ino. 

She’d earnestly recounted the tale of a lonely mouse of a girl who always hid from prying eyes… A sad, meek thing, that had nary a friend in the world—teased relentlessly by her peers. He could tell, just from the way her eyes misted and the minute wobble of her bottom lip, that Ino had already formed the resolve to help the poor thing.

So, as any good father should, he encouraged the behavior.

What he hadn’t expected, was for the two to get on like a house on fire—nor for the pair to collaborate in an effort to uncover the apparently rampant negligence in the Academy Staffs’ part to quell the repeated offenses of abuse among the students. Inoichi was, at once, shocked and impressed by the tenacity, listening in rapt attention as his daughter ranted and paced before him, listing off every offense.

Thus, he wasn’t at all bemused the day a folder was proffered to him, his adorable daughter’s chest puffed up in pride as she practically  _ ordered _ him to take the evidence to the Hokage.

Of which, he promised Ino he would… after he walked her through some editing, of course.

He hadn’t even  _ met _ Ino’s little friend yet, and already he was impressed. Her observations were incredibly detailed and even included a series of notes that included her methods of obtaining information on the perpetrators and victims—as well as word for word transcripts of interviews Ino performed to receive victim testimonies.

Inoichi was very,  _ very _ impressed...

Which made things all the more concerning, when he found out hardly a day after he turned in the report, that the girl had apparently collapsed after an incident at the Academy.

Troubled, he dismissed the messenger, a cousin who happened to be an upperclassmen at the academy and who he’d ordered to keep tabs on Ino’s activities. She’d already left the academy grounds… If he hurried, he could catch up before she reached the hospital.

A rapidly deployed  _ Shunshin _ made quick work of that issue, the world snapping into a blur of indistinct shape and color before halting into focus once more. Ino gave only a short start at his arrival, and Inoichi noted the puffiness of her eyes.

He gave a wane smile, offering his hand to hers as he said, “Would you like to go together?”

Ino sniffed wetly and nodded, trying her damnedest to pull a brave face even as she wrapped her hand around three of his fingers. Not a word passed between them as they strode hand in hand, the hospital a looming monument ahead.

It was easy enough to bypass reception with his credentials, as everyone on staff knew his face and were familiar with his work in the Intelligence Division. He wasn’t family, but his importance deemed that restriction moot, and was thus directed to the appropriate room with little fanfare. It was all just official business, nothing more.

So it came as little surprise when the blonde woman pacing before the door grasped the opportunity he presented with both hands.

“Y-you’re…” she stammered, green eyes widening in recognition, “Yamanaka-sama!”

Inoichi smiled genially and raised a palm in both greeting and as a placating gesture. “Please, just  _ -san _ should be fine,” he said, eyebrows quirking up as he chuckled, “Outside of council meetings  _ -sama _ just makes me feel stuffy and old. Besides, it’s not me who has business here, but my daughter.” At this, he gestured to Ino, who stood by with a stiff upper lip and tense shoulders, her eyes trained only on the door behind the woman. “She’s a friend of Haruno Sakura’s…”

Something flickered in the woman’s eyes, surprised and another emotion that was too quick to identify, though the thinning of her lips was telling. Sakura hadn’t informed the woman—likely her mother—of their friendship. Interesting. “Please, go on ahead…” she said to Ino, who barely allowed her to step aside before pushing her way into the room, the door slamming in her wake.

The hall was silent, Inoichi kept that polite grin plastered to his face.

“Yamanaka-sama,” she began, fingers pressing together nervously and notably not changing the honorific as he requested. A rude gesture in any other circumstance, but Inoichi could sense the gravity of the situation, the seriousness in her tone. “I have dire need of your assistance.”

He raised a brow, his smile wiping away at that simple admission. “Oh? And what might this entail?” he asked, giving her the opportunity to continue with her request, yet not accepting outright.

Her eyes flicked down and to the side. Guilt and recollection. “I am Haruno Mebuki, Sakura’s mother,” she murmured, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Anxiety and fear, she didn’t want to acknowledge the topic, yet was forcing herself to do so. “And… I fear there is something  _ very  _ wrong with my daughter.”

Inoichi’s gaze sharpened at that, internally bristling at the accusation. As a parent, he felt it was prudent to cater to the needs of one’s child, allowing them to explore and grow as needed, while only acting as a guide when necessary. He took umbrage to the idea that children were meant to be stifled and molded to the parent’s wishes without taking into consideration their own desires. In fact, he would have never forced Ino to become his heir if she hadn’t wanted it for herself, traditions of the clan be damned.

So when a fellow parent claimed that something was “wrong” with their child, he took it to mean that the parent believed their child wasn’t meeting certain expectations.

A parenting method he absolutely  _ loathed _ .

“Elucidate.” Inoichi said flatly, already unimpressed by Haruno Mebuki’s display and formulating suspicions.

Heedless of his thoughts, the woman spun her tale, emphasizing how her daughter had always been a sweet and bright girl, quiet and unobtrusive. “She was always so shy around others and kept to herself, even before the Academy. My husband believes it may be due to her… ah, birthmark—”

Inoichi didn’t miss how she stumbled over the definition of Sakura’s skin condition, a telling sign that she meant to call it something else…  _ No doubt her husband is correct in that assumption, _ he thought, keeping his expression passive despite seething below the surface,  _ but the lack of confidence doesn’t just stem from the playground… perceptions at home play an important role. _

And it was clear to him that this woman found her daughter’s skin discoloration something to be ashamed of at the very least...

At worst it was a disfigurement.

He clenched a fist.

“—But lately, she’s been acting so strange,” Haruno continued, her eyes watery now, “More distant. Cold. Muttering to herself on occasion. She used to speak to herself all the time, but upon entering the Academy we thought it best that she not continue this “imaginary friend” business—” 

“Imaginary friend?” Inoichi interrupted, intrigued. He’d read up on the phenomena and witnessed a few children participating with their “friends” when on the playground. Ino never had one, but he understood that such a development was normal and would change as the child grew older. Having one wasn’t a symbol of a troubled child, but forcing one to abandon it… That didn't bode well.

Haruno Mebuki grimaced. “I… didn’t think… I thought for sure it wasn’t real, just something she made up one day. Harmless really,” she stated solemnly, her fingers twisting around themselves, nails picking at the cuticles, “But now… Now I think we were wrong.”

Inoichi’s brow furrowed.

“Before she collapsed,” she spoke, voice pitched low, her eyes darting to see if anyone was close enough to overhear before pinning him with a serious stare, “Sakura… she  _ changed _ . She didn’t speak as if she was herself, she spoke as if… As if  _ Sakura _ was another person.” The woman shuddered, scrubbing a hand through her hair with eyes wide and remembering. “She told me “Sakura’s not here” and she was so angry and clawing at her own face and—and  _ screaming  _ in pain!” A sob escaped her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, her shoulders quivering.

“You think she has a split personality,” he said, mind already scrubbing over the details of her story.

“Y-Yes…Yes,” she whimpered, breaths coming in controlled gasps and tears dripping over her cheeks. She wiped them away. “Yamanaka-sama, I was afraid and I’ve  _ never _ been afraid of my own daughter. So please…” The woman gazed at him pleadingly, her lips quivering. “I know your clan specializes in the mind—a-and I’m willing to pay! Just  _ please _ … Help my daughter.”

He frowned, thoughts churning and more than a little irritated. The woman was treating this like it was some sort of life altering catastrophic event, rather than the treatable mental disorder it was. Plus, he found it highly unlikely for girl to have the condition to begin with, as Ino would doubtlessly notice and there would be a significant loss of memory whenever the other personality took over.

And from what he’d gleaned from casual conversation, Sakura didn’t  _ have _ memory problems.

She had the complete opposite, her memory retention almost frightening.

No… this was something else.

“Alright,” Inoichi said, giving Haruno Mebuki his best, most winning and sympathetic smile, “I’ll take a look.”


End file.
